Once Upon A December
by IvoryMoonlight
Summary: A novelisation of the movie Anastasia with tons of 'missing' scenes.
1. Author's Note: Important!

**Hello everyone! **

**This is an A/N, not chapter one. I wrote this note in order to ask something of you so please read it. I noticed there aren't lots of authors writing their version of the movie _Anastasia_ and since I really do want to do a retelling of the story-movie, I want you to tell me if you'd read that. There are surely going to be tons of 'missing' scenes, if you will, and the POVs of the characters will be changing frequently. But I have to know if you'd read it, otherwise it's not worth publishing it. **

**So I beg of you leave me a review in which you tell me your opinion. Thank you so much!**

**Faithfully, **

**xAshlingxDreamx**


	2. The Journey to the Past Begins

**Disclaimer: I certainly do not own Anastasia or any of the characters. I only own the scenes I invent!**

**P.S.: I want to dedicate this to my _awfully_ faithful follower and friend ** maddie-babz1993** because she's been most supportive and kind and probably wants this story to be written more than me XD So, to you, Maddie (:**

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><p>Music. Sweet, gentle music, the melody overwhelming her, warming her heart with the tender feeling of familiarity and protective comfort, the kind of comfort a person close to you offers you when you bury yourself in their arms. Family. That melody reminded her family. But family she had never known. It was a miracle that she could remember the loving feeling she probably used to get when she did have one. If she ever had one. Oh, how she wished that feeling nested in her heart and never left. It was flaming hope in her soul, the hope that she would find her family and leave, never coming back to that dreadful house where its owners would yell at her and make her do all the errands just because she was the eldest and an orphan. And perhaps the most pesty one!<p>

She shook the orphanage's image off her mind and surrendered herself again to the soft music and the generous, warm feeling. She was certain she had heard it before and more than once. Why could she not remember? It was so annoying and irritating. But she had learned to live with that the last ten years that after some point it had ceased bothering her. That music was all she had left that was reminding her of her past, that not all was yet lost. That and her golden medallion, of course. She started humming along, that music was not ordinary melody. It was from a music box, she had never been more sure about anything than that. And that triggered something in her memory and suddenly, random, incomprehensible pictures started appearing and vanishing before her, just like a slide show.

_"Hey, look what I did for grandmamma, Olga! Look!" _A little girl, not older than seven years old, ran excitedly to an older girl, waving a piece of paper before her face in frantic and merry enthusiasm. She had the most adorable, childish smile on her pinky face that Anya had ever seen. The other girl, Olga, took the picture in her hands and examined it closely, requesting what it was in a serious tone. But living for ten years with children, Anya could see the childish deviousness behind her serious façade. _"It's a picture I drew for grandmamma!"_

_"I can see it's a drawing, but what did you draw?"_ Olga rolled her eyes as if stating the obvious. She held the picture in a greater distance and tilted her head to the right, scrutinizing the picture. _"Looks like a pig riding a donkey to me…"_

The younger girl frowned and pout out her lower lip in what could have been the cutest puppy look Anya had ever seen if it weren't for the juvenile anger written all over her little face, darkening her big, ocean blue eyes. She determined and offended grabbed the picture off Olga's hand and stuck her tongue at her. _"Does not! And I don't care what it looks like to you! Grandmamma Marie will like it!" _

Anya shook her head with a small smile on her face and welcomed the new memory. She did not know how all these moments were connected with her because in all these dreams everyone was dressed fancifully, all the cloths seemed to belong to the wealthiest man in Russia and even everyone's hair seemed too perfect and like they been brushed a millions of times to look so smooth and soft to belong to a commoner like her, an orphan. She saw the same little girl offering the picture to her grandmother, a woman with a loving smile plastered on her face that brought Anya on the verge of crying. Her cloths were highly expensive as she expected them to be and what looked like a crown was keeping the red veil she was wearing in its place. The woman was about to give something to her granddaughter but the dream faded away, replaced by another.

The same woman and the girl were running across a corridor, gold and red carvings decorating each and every wall they passed. They were running as if their lives depended on it. The woman was running behind her, almost chasing her, trying to prevent her from something. But the girl seemed determined and would not stop. She burst in a room, her eyes urgently looking for something and she immediately spotted it. _"My music box!"_ It was a small object but Anya wasn't able to catch a glimpse of it as the girl dug it in her pocket. They were about to exit the room when someone seemed to try to break down the door. The two looked absolutely petrified as they clung onto one another. But then a little boy, around the girl's age, appeared out of the blue and pushed them through a secret passage way in the wall, practically saving their lives. Unfortunately, the music box the girl so longed to save, dropped off her pocket and she had no time to retrieve it again. The men burst in, as the moment started blurring away too, but not before Anya saw those vile people hurting and knocking out the brave, poor darling boy.

Anya felt anger boiling in her at the violent sight but her rage only grew when she saw the child and her grandmother running on the ice and a vile looking, ugly and devious man jumped behind them and trapped the little girl's ankle in his wide, bony palm. The girl shrieked in horror and begged him -in the most polite manner Anya had ever seen one pleading- to let her go. The old woman tried to pull her out of his grip and thankfully the ice beneath him broke down, and he fell in the ice-cold water, to his freezing death. The dream was not yet over but something was pulling her out. Everything seemed to be slowing down and fading away. The sound of a train's tracks seemed to be so far away now and a rough, annoying voice was growing louder and louder. She felt cold everywhere, the cosy warmth she previously had was gone. She was being pulled back to the real world. _No_, Anya fought to stay in her dream. She clenched onto her blanket only to realize there was no blanket to be clenched on. Suddenly she was being shaken. With annoyed groans, she slapped and punched the air only to feel her wrists being gripped by someone's cold, rough palms. And then light suddenly barged in.

She was awake.

She blinked a couple of times and placed violently her head under her hard pillow, shooing away with a wave of her hand her waker. But they would not give up. Her pillow was rudely taken away from her and rude comments and remarks made her roll her shut eyes. She had heard all that before that she had memorized it by heart. With a hand over her aching head, she sat up sleepily, raising her free hand in surrender, remarking she was up. A garment was violently thrown on her face as the owner of the orphanage told her to get her things. It was the day she she was released. The day she was getting her freedom back. Remembering that, a smile grew on her face and she eagerly got up, pushing away the woman and running to the window. Such a beautiful day out there! Well, it was snowing but she did not really care. Her first day of freedom should be a beautiful day, at least for her.

She heard the woman's muttering becoming more and more distant and so did her footsteps against the wooden floor before a bunch of crying little children attacked her with hugs and kisses. Laughing, she hugged everyone she could back and kissed they foreheads and cheeks. "Good morning to you too, children!"

"Oh, Anya! How can it be good when you are leaving!" a little boy with unruly, chestnut hair and sleepy, dark eyes exclaimed disappointedly. She smiled and cupped his cheek. That boy always would remind her of someone she knew, but she could not remember. How very strange for her! Perhaps she remembered him from a dream. The thing is, she did not remember her dreams. Not all of them at least. She only remembered they were intense but not what they were about. Just like that night's dream. Oh, if only she could remember. But since that privilege and ability was not given to her –yet- she shook her head and concentrated on the kids circling her.

"That's the very reason it's good!" she exclaimed with a kind, prideful but sad smile. She would get her freedom, but she would miss terribly all those little faces looking up at her with gratitude and loving admiration. "I will miss you all! You've no idea how much! But it's time for me to find my purpose in life. To find my family. You all know that, don't you?"

"Yes, yes…we do…" a bunch of them said simultaneously sounding like a choir, with their heads inclined in sorrow. "But why can't you take us with you? We could help you!"

"Oh, I wish I could but The Funnel won't let you…!" she reminded them making them all giggle. It was a private, little joke of theirs that worked as a signal or warning too. They called the orphanage's mistress The Funnel because of the tons of cigarettes she smoked. "Besides, when your time comes, you'll have your own dreams to chase! Plus, someone must be around to put some 'order' in this house, if you know what I mean!"

She winked conspiratorially at them and they all giggled smugly, rubbing their hands. They all broke in laughter but soon they were jumping on Anya again, pulling her down with them. Some girls started crying on her shoulders while the boys, who were on the verge of tears too, would mock them and call them babies. Anya rolled her eyes thinking how exactly the opposite was true but kept her mouth shut for the sake of her departure. Once she said her goodbyes and kissed and hugged each one of the little devils, she walked down the stairs, wiping away the tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. She had grown so close to those little children. She understood them like no one else could. She helped and comforted them when they had most need of it. Together they had passed merry nights of storytelling or planning against the owners of the house, plans they acted upon with, sometimes, severe punishment.

Comrade Phlegmenkoff, as the Funnel wanted everyone to call her, gave her advice on what to do as young Anya was exiting the house. Something about her getting a job for the girl in a fishfactory, Anya did not really listen. She was busy saying her last goodbye to the children whose faces were now pressed against the window and who were waving frantically their hands at her. She and comrade Phlegmenkoff had their usual argument about her memory loss and the medallion around her neck being her clue of her past before she pushed her out of the house's gates, into the real world.

Once the annoying woman was gone, Anya turned her back on the place she lived for the last ten years and took a deep breath as she scanned the area around her. She could feel freedom already circling her, she could even taste it, smell it, touch it… And here she was, Anya, an eighteen-year-old girl, with no memories of her earliest childhood but only a medallion with the engraved letters _Together In Paris _and the cheap, rough cloths she was wearing, was on her road to her dreams, starting on her journey to the past, to home, to family…

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><p><strong>So I thought of giving you a first taste of what the story will be! I hope you liked chapter one and the way I wrote it! I did not want it to be a complete copy of the movie. It's actually a short chapter -well, duh!- but the rest of the chapters will be longer (I intend to make them longer!) As you have understood, the last words have been taken from the beautiful song Journey To The Past and so has the title of the chapter. Please let me know what you think! (:<br>**


	3. A Memory from a Dream

**So, I decided to update this soon! yeah, I'm such a kind person but please please please REVIEW people! I have to know what you think! Is it that hard?  
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><p>"You sure about that, Dimitri?"<p>

The young man rolled his eyes and took a quite long sip of his coffee. He could not understand the reason his closest –and only- friend needed him to repeat his answer for the millionth time. Actually he had been more than clear and he could not have given him a more specific answer. But perhaps it was impatience and anticipation that was making Vlad so nervous, impatience to get this over with quickly and be done with it. The truth, they had been in there for more than three hours without a single break and they had had more than four cups of coffee each.

"Yes, Vlad! I've already told you, she's not fit! I mean look at her!" he exclaimed, this time trying to prove his point. He extended his hand towards the not so young woman standing with what _she_ thought _and _called grace and noble pride. However, he was not sure that a woman of probably thirty, dressed in a rather short, provoking skirt and high heels, who sways her hips like a boat rocking in a thunderous storm and a cigarette in her too full and large lips would convince Her Imperial Majesty the Dowager Empress that she's her long lost granddaughter. And apparently Vlad was not sure either. "Perhaps you see now she would never convince for the part?"

"Hey, Grandma, it's me! Anastasia!" the woman thought she was doing actually pretty well, thus the reason they were not rejecting her so soon, so she decided to continue her act a little more. Vladimir's palm collided roughly and savagely on his face, leaving his fingerprints on his glasses while the noisy slap echoed off in the theatre's wooden walls. That was all the answer Dimitri needed to receive to know Vlad's final opinion.

"Oh, brother…!" Dimitri exclaimed to himself the moment Vlad's face hit with a great thud the desk causing a chuckle in a snort out of the young man. He dismissed the woman and scratched her name off the list with the girls' names who auditioned to be Anastasia. But how could he teach and present one of those girls to be the Grand Duchess when they all looked nothing like the sweet, charming little girl he remembered Anastasia to be or seemed to have no potential whatsoever to behave like her. The Empress would surely kick them out of her parisian house herself. "Three more to go and we're done with these tortures."

However, Dimitri was too rushed to speak. They spent another hour in that wreck of a theatre as at the last minute a bunch of some more girls decided to give it a go and audition as well. Vlad's characterization for them was 'not too bad' while Dimitri's was 'could not have been better'. "It's a lost cause. We will never find a girl to be Anastasia!" Vladimir exclaimed again with a crushed spirit while Dimitri kept up his efforts trying to cheer him up and assure him they would definitely find someone. After all, Russia was a big country. There surely was a girl who could pull it off being Anastasia.

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><p>"If only you could sniff your way to him."<p>

Anya patted the tiny puppy's head gently. Pooka, that's the name she had given the doggy, was her new and only friend. He was the reason actually she found herself in St. Petersburg. He was the sign God had sent her. Well, she needed not to be convinced to follow the road that led to Russia's great city. She'd rather be anywhere but in the smelly, small village Comrade Phlegmenkoff wanted her to go. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find her past there. Well, Paris was the place her past probably was. After all, her family was her past and her family was in Paris. But unfortunately she had no way of going to Paris since that very _polite_ and _kind_ gentleman at the train station slammed his office's window shut right in her face after yelling at her 'No exit visa, no ticket!'. And she obviously had no exit visa. Well, she was advised by that old lady to find Dimitri but that would be quite a task. She told her he lived at the old Palace but where on earth was that? If only Pooka _could_ sniff his way to him.

"Well, I guess we're not making any progress by sitting on a street pavement, are we, now, boy?" she changed her voice's volume to more playfully adoring and high pitched, making the puppy swing mercilessly his small gray tail and jump up and down playfully, his big, thin ears flying in the air and flapping gently on his doggy face. She laughed merrily at the sight and took her in her arms affectionately, giving him a big kiss on the head. "And we're off to find Dimitri! Whoever he is…"

Turning around a corner, she finally found someone who probably could help her finding the Palace. She approached him but he did not seem quite eager to talk to her. She was about to ask him her question when a man she did not get to look at, bumped his shoulder on hers without even turning to look at her or apologise. Some people. She tried to prevent herself from giving the man's back a dirty look but apparently she failed as the man she was asking his guidance narrowed his eyes and waved a dismissive hand of superiority when he gave her an answer. Was every man so rude in this place? But she shook these thoughts off her head and followed the direction the man showed her. It was not far from where she was. Walking a little further in the city's narrow alley ways and streets, she finally spotted it. It was obvious that when in its glorious days, the Palace was truly magnificent and imposing. But now the great glasses of the windows and doors were covered by wooden planks and the once golden walls were now tacky and dusty.

Her little dog, that had jumped off her warm arms now, found a crevice in the planks large enough for him so he sneaked in the palace. Anya looked through the planks in the room Pooka had crept in and when not finding him or receiving a response to her calling out his name, she gathered all her strength and pulled hard the planks in order to open a way for her. The planks were obviously time worn and were easy to remove. But as they gave in, she suddenly found herself flat on her back with her arms spread out above her head and the planks only inches out of her reach. She got up and cleaned herself, brushing the dust and bits of wood off her long-lengthed coat and pants and she placed back on her head her cap. She heard Pooka's high pitched bark bouncing off on the old, marble walls of the Palace and remembering what she wanted to do in the first place, she got in too through the hole she had created.

The room she got in was not as large as she had supposed a palace's room would be but it was quite larger than an orphanage's one. All of the furniture was covered in white table cloths which were coloured gray by the thick blanket of dust resting on them. Even the portraits on the once highly ornamented and vividly coloured walls were covered in tablecloths. The only door of the room led to a long, narrow corridor which was carpeted with a once velvet, bright red moquette. She walked across the long corridor, catching glimpse of Pooka's shadow now and then or listening to his inviting bark and chose to open the last room's door. She, however, found herself before an enormous flight of stairs which led to the first level of the Palace. "Wow, this is a really long red carpet…" she muttered to herself as she gazed entranced at the place. She took off her cap and climbed up the stairs hurriedly. She even called out to test if anyone was in the Palace as well but receiving no reply, she guessed she was all alone.

The flight of stairs led her directly to yet another room of the same size as the first. This one was only furnished with tables of all sizes and a couple of chairs. The largest table was surprisingly not covered but actually all kinds of cutlery or dishes and platters and glasses were resting on it, dust not letting their silvery and golden colour shine and shimmer in the way she knew they did. She even took one of the dishes to prove to herself she was right and blew the dust off. The dish was instantly shining like a mirror. And like a mirror it reflected one, single, tiny moment of a little girl, who seemed extremely familiar and yet so unknown, giving gleefully to an old woman a drawing. With a sigh, she blinked, making the reflection disappear until she was gazing at her own reflection again. With a shake of her head, she placed the dish back on the table and examined the room some more.

"This place…" she spoke to herself but wished that Pooka could understand her words too. After all, he was the only faithful friend she had at the moment, she really needed to have someone to talk to. "It's…like a memory from a dream…" She stood before a dusty mirror and stared at her reflection once more, her mind going completely blank for a moment. She found herself singing an all too familiar melody which she could not give a name to. She just _knew_ it, she had heard it before. It was a song or nostalgia, melancholy and hope at the same time. The words just came out of her lips without her giving too much thought on them. And she let the melody in her head take over, she surrendered herself to it. Soon the magic of that familiar, overwhelming music swept her off her feet, brought her craziest fantasies to life. But for some reason she did not think it to be strange or unhealthy.

Instead, she found herself dancing in the immense ball room that was now glowing by the great chandeliers' light, among shining, smiling figures triggered by her imagination. Three girls a little older than herself circled her, laughing merrily. The youngest placed a necklace of pearls around her neck and all three stepped back and accepted the hand of a gentleman.

Spinning around herself made her dizzy and merry, more carefree and trouble-free. She felt a smoky cloud of golden magic twirling her before the light heaviness of a golden, glittering dress was waving around her, making her look like one of those noble, smiling people. She was truly lost in her own world and that was making her blissful. She found herself twirling on the dancefloor in the arms of several men before an older one descended the stairs. At his sight everyone parted and let him approach her. He was not young but not old either. He had a kind, tenderly loving smile on his bearded lips as he extended an inviting hand to her direction which she gladly took it. In the man's arms she felt more warmth and love than she had ever remembered feeling in her entire life.

They ceased dancing and he planted a gentle kiss of a promise on her forehead and stepped backwards slowly.

Everything blurred away and the melody in her head fades away, became more and more distant. But what truly brought her back to reality was a warning, rough voice of a man standing on a balcony at the other side of the hall. He had already started climbing down the stairs in long strides when she had finally spotted him so, even though she ran up the stairs to her escape, he caught up with her. He did not actually catch her but his asking her to stop made her freeze dead in her tracks and spin her heels around so to face him.

"How did you get in he…re?" the man stammered a little the moment he laid his eyes on her but she defied her puzzlement and shrug her shoulders to him. What could she say to him really? That she had sneaked in the Palace and had passed on to full-on hallucinations of her being of royal blood, dancing in the great Palace's ball room among the royal guests? It was crazy and he would certainly laugh at her. _She _would laugh at her but that was beside the point. His lips parted in surprise again and he stopped the elder man from telling her she was not allowed in there. "Vlad, do you see what I see?" he whispered loud enough so she was able to listen to him and she raised a questioning brow when he pointed at her.

"No." Vlad simply said not seeming to understand the reason of his friend's surprised awe. The younger man pushed gently Vlad's glasses off his head on his chubby nose and the old man was obviously enlightened. "Oh! Yes! Yes!" the younger man nodded at him in agreement and satisfaction that he had made him see his point, before making his way up the stairs, coursing to a stop at the middle to listen to her.

"Are you Dimitri?" she asked hoping to receive a positive answer. She really wanted to find those tickets that would take her to so longed Paris and hopefully her family and obviously Dimitri was the only link she had, and hope, to get there.

"Perhaps!" it was his turn to shrug his shoulders as he kept on climbing the stairs. "That depends on who's looking for him."

Anya rolled her eyes. She expected that kind of answer. Everyone seemed so cautious in that city, it was almost annoying her. So she decided to introduce herself and tell him immediately the reason she was looking for him. Perhaps he'd give her those tickets. "My name is Anya. I need travel papers." The man who she supposed was Dimitri had now climbed the stairs and was standing right before her, looking at her in a studying manner, looking quite skeptical. But she did not pay too much attention on him. She only placed a cupped palm on her face as if telling a secret and told him she was sent to him to get her papers. "They say you're the man to see even though I can't tell you who said that."

"Hmm…" Dimitri –it was a waste of a good thinking time to still suppose it was him- smiled to himself satisfied as he started circling her, with a pensive finger on his lips and his dark, brown eyes examining up and down her silhouette. She knitted her brows and frowned annoyed, she disliked being so closely and almost rudely looked at, as if she were an object. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at him over her shoulders as he kept on walking around her.

"What? Hey - why are you circling me? What were you, a vulture in another life?" she exclaimed stating indirectly her nuisance of being so provokingly scrutinized and hoping he would get her message.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Enya." He apologized, raising slightly his hands in surrender, even though he did not seem really apologetic to her which she chose to ignore, before he signaled to his friend to follow him.

"Anya!" she corrected him and repeated her name a couple of times tapping her pointer finger on his chest. He repeated the name after her as well and raised a silencing hand as Vlad approached them. Anya noticed her pet dog snuggling comfortably in the old man's arms and she strained herself from smiling widely at the sight. Pooka always sought for a pair of welcoming hands and a kind face to lick in loving fidelity.

"It's just that you look awfully a lot like…" he gestured to the painting behind her and she looked over her shoulder to look at what he was gesturing at. She only glanced at it but a single glance was enough for her to see the last royal family that lived in those marble walls, the Romanovs, each and every one of them. The parents with their four daughters and one son around them or in their arms and the Dowager Empress, the Czar's mother. They all looked good-natured and kind. She perhaps would have quite liked them if she knew them. "Never mind!" his exclaiming words made her look at him again, the smile of cunningness never leaving his eyes and plastered on his mouth. What _was_ making that man so content and joyful? "Now, you said something about travel papers?"

"Yes, I want to go to Paris." She stated glad they were finally getting to the point.

"You want to go to Paris?" he repeated after her looking more and more thrilled. She nodded not quite getting the point of that whole conversation but she was patient enough. She would get on a train to Paris that very same day and she was willing to do anything and to answer any question she was asked. "Now, let me ask you a question, _A-nya_, was it? There's a last name that goes with that?"

Anya sighed, she expected this to happen. She wasn't sure if she should lie, if it was best than telling him the truth. But she had been taught that lies lead to no good so she placed a hand on her temple and searched for the right words to tell him the truth. "Well, actually, this is going to sound crazy… I don't know my last name. I was found wandering around when I was eight years old." She had not noticed how she tended to wave her hands whenever she talked, so to prove her point. Maybe it was the anxiousness of hers that he believes her and helps her go to Paris. But he seemed to have no doubts or seconds thoughts about her sincerity and actually quite interested.

"Aha, and before that? Before you were eight?" he egged her on, to continue her story.

"Look, I know it's strange but I don't remember, I have very few memories of my past." She exclaimed and somehow her hands found their way again to the medallion hanging around her neck and she took one look at it once more, rereading the engraved golden letters that were her motive of getting to the French capital.

"Well, that's…perfect." He announced looking meaningfully at Vlad who seemed too distracted and absorbed in his games with Pooka to pay any attention to them.

"Well, I do have a clue, however." She informed him, thinking it'd be a good thing to let him know the reason she so badly wanted those travel papers. "And that is Paris. So can you two help me or not?"

Dimitri whispered something to his friend distracting him from Pooka's sweet puppy face and making him start looking for something in his coat's pockets. "Sure, I would like to. In fact, oddly enough we're going to Paris ourselves." He told her with a kind smile which immediately turned apologetic. "And I've got three tickets here…" at the sight of the small, yellow pieces of paper that could take her to her destination, the girl tiptoed and reached out for them as he playfully held them above his head. "…but unfortunately the third one is for her, Anastasia." He explained motioning to the portrait behind her again.

"Oh." She exclaimed as realization dawned on her but before she could say anything else, two pairs of arms started dragging her and leading her up some stairs.

"We are going to reunite the Grand Duchess Anastasia with her grandmum." Vlad explained kindly, still holding Pooka in one hand.

"You do kind of resemble her!" Dimitri observed pensively as they kept on dragging her up the stairs. Anya's eyes grew bigger at his observation. What was he on about? She couldn't.. "The same blue eyes!"

"Yes!" Vlad agreed in genuine illumination and as she turned to face him, he looked deep in her eyes."Nicholas' smile!"

Dimitri slipped a hand under her chin and abruptly turned her face so that she was facing him. "Alexandra's chin!"

Anya was about to grunt in irritation –those were only lies, there was no way she could be a Romanov!- and released the arm Dimitri was holding and lifted it so that she could free the other one as well, when Vlad surprised her by taking her palm in his and examining it closely. "She even has the grandmother's hands!"

"She's the same age, the same physical type…" Dimitri was checking off each characteristic on his fingers as he took her wrist again and the two brought her before yet another portrait and this time she could tell it was the Dowager Empress holding the little Grand Duchess Anastasia's small hand. It was quite obvious what the two men were trying to tell her and show her through all those paintings and observations. And instead of thinking it was plausible, she only concluded they were insane. That Dimitri especially showed symptoms of madness from the very first moment she met him.

"Are you two trying to tell me that you think that_ I_ am Anastasia?" her voice came out as a sarcastic giggle as they gently pushed her closer to the portrait.

"All I'm trying to tell you is that I've seen thousands of girls from all over the country and not _one _of them," he wagged vividly a finger before her face to give more emphasis in his words. "looks as much as the Grand Duchess as you. I mean, look at the portrait!"

She chuckled in irony again and pressed a finger on his chest again. "I knew you were crazy from the beginning but now I think you are _both_ mad!" and with that she held her head high in a proud manner and folding her arms on her chest, she spun on her heels distancing herself from them. Dimitri, however, was not determined to let her go that easily. He seemed determined to persuade her. The question was why? Was something in it for him? Or just his good heart that truly wanted to see the Empress reunited with her granddaughter again? She wasn't sure what to believe between her two options, but she didn't really care. There was no chance that she could be Anastasia, it was just impossible.

"Why!" the young man hurried to catch up with her and while she kept on walking away, he was taking steps backwards as he stood before her to block her way. "You don't remember what happened to you!"

"No one knows what happened to her." Vlad added. She rolled her eyes. They were a pair of two really persistent men, no wonder they were close friends.

"You're looking for family in Paris." Dimitri pointed out again.

And Vladimir as usually completed his friend's point. "And her only family is in Paris!"

"You ever thought of the possibility?" Dimitri requested in a less obstinate manner as he threw an arm around her shoulders and slowly led her before the portrait again.

"That I could be royalty?" Well, it's not that the thought did not appeal to her. But it seemed too improbable to her. She had spent her whole life, or actually the part of her life she remembered, in an orphanage wearing rugs and doing errands. Truth is, Comrade Phlegmenkoff used to say that she always behaved like a spoiled little brat and princess instead of the 'meaningless little no one' she was. But that didn't mean she was Anastasia, but that she was a pest and that she wanted to annoy the Comrade and her lot. "Well, I don't know. It's kind of hard to think of yourself as a Duchess when you're sleeping on a damp floor. But…" her voice trailed away surprising even herself. Taking another look at the portrait, she had to admit that little girl kind of resembled her. She had big, curious ocean blue eyes and reddish, brown curled hair and the shape of her face was kind of round with a not too pointy chin, just like hers. "yeah, I think that every lonely girl would hope she's a Princess."

"And somewhere, one little girl is…" Vladimir's kind, gentle voice sounded almost fatherly to her ears for a moment but she was too absorbed in the painting to respond. She felt Dimitri's presence absence though, the warmth of where his hand was resting upon being slowly replaced by cold but again she paid no attention. She had not even realized that Pooka had jumped in her embrace and was licking her hands. "After all, the name Anastasia means she will rise again!" Vlad added, his voice a little too dramatic but convincing however. But this time she had no chance to reply as Dimitri popped from behind them and placed a hand on Vlad's shoulder, making him follow him.

"Really wish we could help but the third ticket is for the Grand Duchess Anastasia." He said not really sounding remorseful and they left her behind, chewing on her lips in desperate dilemma. "Good luck." She wasn't sure what to do. She really wanted to go to Paris, to have that third ticket, but she was not Anastasia. And she didn't want to trick the Empress if she weren't her grandchild. But the Dowager Empress would immediately know if she were Anastasia, she would immediately understand. And if Anya explained to her how things were, she would understand. Besides, she had heard that the Empress a kind and understanding woman. She would know that Anya would never mean to trick her. Either way, she would go to Paris.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you…we're walking away too soon…" Vladimir told his young friend once he was sure Anya could not listen to them. Dimitri, however, gave him a wink and a cunning smile as he checked the watch around his left wrist- another acquirement of his from the poker club where he spent some of his nights at-.<p>

"Not to worry, I've got it _all_ under control!" he assured him, almost proud of himself, in a whisper. "Okay, now walk a little slower." He threw an arm before his friend to slow his pace down.

"What are you up to again, boy?" the elder man asked sort of rhetorically knowing the chances of him getting a satisfying answer were little. But Dimitri gave him his crooked smile again and raised his hand in the air.

"Three, two, one…" he counted ticking his fingers off and he threw a victorious, expecting arm in the air at the same time the young woman shouted out his name. "Yes..!" he cheered in a whisper punching the air victoriously but he did not cease walking until her silhouette's shadow appeared before them, waving a hand. Dimitri took his best fake grimace of puzzlement and turned to face her. "Did- did you call me?"

"If I don't remember who I am then who is to say that I'm not a Princess or a Duchess or whatever she is, right?" she lost no time trying to persuade him to take her with him as Anastasia as she walked down the stairs. He nodded his head in agreement, pretending to be thinking of her words through. "Yeah, and if I'm not Anastasia, the Empress will certainly know right away and it's all just an honest mistake!" she finished folding her arms across her chest for what seemed like the hundredth time to the man.

"Sounds plausible, yeah." He agreed but didn't invite her right away.

"But if you are the Princess, then you'll finally know who you are and have your family back!" Vlad rushed to her side and smiled a wide grin full of meaning and kindness.

Dimitri chuckled. "You know… you know, he's right. Either way gets you to Paris!"

Anya's face brightened up at his words and with a grateful but cautious smile she offered her palm so to shake their hands to confirm the deal. He shouldn't be called conceited but he was smart and cunning. He had managed to change a complete stranger girl's mind into following him to Paris and presenting herself as Anastasia, without even telling her his real, actual plan. That was an achievement indeed. The girl was a carbon copy of the little Anastasia he remembered and the Empress would almost surely recognize her as her beloved granddaughter. Not to mention that little music box would instantly convince her just by glancing on, there was no doubt of that. Therefore the 10 million rubles prize would be his –and Vlad's, of course- and the two would be the most infamous, rich men in all Russia.

With a negotiating smile, he offered his hand too and she eagerly accepted it, shaking and squeezing it a little too violently. Well, she was an orphan, they would need to teach her some Princess's manners before presenting her to the Dowager Majesty. With a pained groan, he unattached their hands by withdrawing hers with his free hand and then he took his pained wrist in his palm and gently shook it so that he would actually feel it again. For a skinny, little girl she had too much strength in her. She placed her hands on her hips almost contently and grinned a light apologetic smile. He shook his head and walked a little away. "May I present Her Royal Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia!" he said after a moment in a dramatic manner, bowing with what he called respect before her as she played along his little game and descended the few left steps in a proud, gracious manner.

She then giggled a little and held her little dog –that would not stop growling at Dimitri, it was already irritating him- and gently pressed his wet nose on hers. "Pooka, we are going to Paris!"

That drew Dimitri's attention who chuckled nervously. There was no way that restless dog followed them. He was already getting on Dimitri's nerves and he didn't even want to think of how he would be if he followed along. "Uh, the dog stays." He announced her in his most polite way.

Anya gave him a questioning arch of brows. "I'm talking about the dog goes."

"No," his voice was firmer now. "the dog's not going."

Her blue eyes narrowed almost menacingly in a determined manner and she placed a hand on her hip obstinately and held Pooka with her other one. "I say he's going."

"I'm allergic to dogs!" he insisted stubbornly.

Anya rolled her eyes but not in the defeated manner Dimitri would have liked her to. Probably that girl had more in her than he gave her credit for. And she seemed to certainly have a mind of her own. That could be a problem. He knew women were already cunning. What about _smart _women?

"Is he always behaving like a baby?" she asked Vlad pointing to his direction. His jaw dropped at her words feeling quite insulted. He wasn't acting like a baby! How could she say that? She didn't even know him. He shot a death glare, full of meaning to Vladimir's direction, warning him to not give her an answer, an answer that was apparent that it was biting him on the tip of his tongue to blurt it out.

"Just leave the dog!"

"I am not leaving the dog! Deal with it!" she exclaimed stubbornly, holding Pooka closer to her chest protectively while the dog kept on growling at him. Dimitri rolled his eyes. This would be a long journey.


End file.
